


The Hour of The Wolf

by Emma



Series: The Homecoming Universe [9]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:43:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is happening in St. Catherine’s Glen, and whatever it is will change the Cooper-Williams family forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

           The monastery was built of white-washed stone. The wall surrounding it was more of a visual barrier than a physical one, ending at around waist-level and topped with ornamental iron in a floral motif. Inside the tiny chapel, cheerful murals portrayed scenes from the life of Saint Francis. The guest house was spotlessly clean. Iron cots were made up with thick pillows and warm blankets, and the bath water was plentiful and stinging hot. Lunch had consisted of bowls of delicious sausage and lentil stew and big loaves of warm chewy bread.

             Pryce Cooper-Williams was getting a really bad feeling about it all.

             He could tell Yan was uncomfortable too. In a family of theatrical extroverts, his twin was odd-man-out: cool and self-contained, Yan seldom gave anything away. Right now, sprawling on one of the stone benches that marked the boundaries of the kitchen garden, teasing Merry, laughing at something Don had said, he seemed the dictionary definition of relaxation. Only someone who had shared everything with Yan from the cradle – and that limited the pool to Pryce and Addie – would be able to read the little signals of tension.

             The trip to Scotland had been Jonathan Conway’s idea. Pryce, Yan, and Addie had befriended Meredith Conway on their first day of junior school. It had been Addie who had turned the god-awful Meredith into Merry, claiming the small, pale boy looked the character in the _Lord of the Rings_ films. The four of them did everything together until Merry turned fourteen, when Mr. Conway’s business had taken the whole family to Spain for a few years. While visiting Africa on holiday the whole family had caught some kind of virus; Mrs. Conway had died, and Merry and his little sister Leah had come close. After they recovered, Mr. Conway moved them back to Cardiff, and the whole group had picked up where they’d left off.

             For Merry’s nineteenth birthday Mr. Conway arranged to send his son and his two best friends of the male variety on a hiking trip to Scotland. Pryce suspected Merry would have preferred a weekend in London with Addie, but he had accepted his Tad’s gift with his usual good humor. They were joined by Don Riddell, the son of one of Mr. Conway’s business associates, who sang in the same choir as Merry and Yan.

             Mr. Conway had hired James Booth to, as he put it, “ride herd on you lot”. The man was a fucking stereotype – tall, brawny, with wild curly red hair and a Scottish accent you couldn’t cut with a claymore – but he knew all the best places to camp and could identify every species of tree, bush, flower, bird, fish, and mammal they came across. They’d had a great time hiking from Edinburgh through the hills south of the Dee Valley and up into Royal Deeside.

             Right about the time they reached Kincardine O’Neill, they all noticed Merry had started to look pale and tired. Pryce had assumed they would stop at the village, which had a couple of nice bed-and-breakfasts and a clinic, but Booth had decided to push on to a local monastery where the monks were expert herbalists and often served as medics for the farming people around them. Which may well have all been gospel truth, but it was still the monastery at St. Catherine’s Glen, and that was enough to give Pryce and Yan the heebie-jeebies.

             They weren’t supposed to know what their mother and her friends, their adoptive uncles and aunts, did for a living, so of course they knew all about Torchwood by the time they were twelve. Torchwood Three security systems were tough, but Torchwood One could be a little careless and Torchwood Two was a joke. Well, to be fair, they did keep out most hackers, but Adeola Milligan-Jones wasn’t just any hacker, and Yan could read encrypted data like Pryce could read English and Gaelic. They knew all about Queen Victoria’s encounter with the monks of St. Catherine’s Glen and their werewolf.

             As far as Pryce had been able to discover, this bunch was relatively new. After the Doctor killed the werewolf, the remaining monks had disappeared. The monastery had stood empty until about ten years before, when the Brethren of the Order of St. Francis had leased it from the Durwood estate. They had rebuilt the place and made themselves well known and liked in the area. If they seemed to put a little too much emphasis on the story of St. Francis and the wolf, well, Pryce was willing to concede that maybe it was just a little Torchwood prejudice.

             Until Yan noticed the mistletoe.

             It was everywhere. The decorative iron showed mistletoe at every stage of growth. The young apple trees in the orchard were festooned with it, as was the old oak towering over the far end of the garden. The monk in charge of the infirmary used both mistletoe oil and mistletoe tea in his concoctions. Yan swore that the oil was rubbed into windowsills and door frames.

             And then there was Booth.

             He had told them he’d met the monks when they settled in the area and he’d needed their permission to camp on monastery lands. That seemed to be corroborated by comments they had heard from some of the locals of Kinkardine. They had treated Booth like one of their own, and some of the older ones mentioned Booth’s family farm, which, Pryce gathered, was run by Booth’s sister and her husband.

             Once they had arrived at St. Catherine’s Glen, though, their hiking guide was transformed into someone totally different. He attended all the services, even the night-time ones. He spent most of his time with Father Robert, the abbot, or with Brother Isaiah, the herbalist. They kept dosing Merry with disgusting stuff, or rubbing his back and chest with even more disgusting stuff. Once Pryce had overheard Brother Isaiah call Booth _Brother Herald_ , as in “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

             The man who had led the monks during their encounter with the Doctor had been called Father Angelo.

            And now Brother Isaiah and Father Robert had decided that Merry was much better and needed fresh air and exercise.  Booth had told them they would be camping out in the glen, near the burn that separated the monastery lands from those of the nearby manor house – which he very carefully did not call by its proper name.

             Time to call in reinforcements.

             Pryce knew his uncle Jack would not be happy to find out his adoptive nephews and nieces, down to ten-year-old Toshi and nine-year-old Fran, were all aware of what Torchwood really did. On the other hand, the Captain was a pragmatic man; stomping on whatever was happening at St. Catherine’s Glen would take priority over reading them the riot act. Pryce figured by the time it was all over the leader of Torchwood would have calmed down… a little. If worse came to worse, Pryce could sic Uncle Ianto on him.

             The problem was getting the information to Uncle Jack without giving themselves away. The family cover story – that Gwen Cooper-Williams was a senior officer in a major anti-terrorist unit – had held up very well over the years, but Merry knew about Torchwood. Pryce had to assume the worst case scenario was that Merry had spilled the beans for some reason and they were already hostages, but their captors didn’t want to show their hand just yet. On the other hand, maybe they were there purely by chance; the monks’ obsession with Merry seemed to indicate that whatever was happening centered on him. Either way, it wasn’t likely they would be allowed to scream for help.

             There were things, though, that even Merry didn’t know about, and that gave Pryce and Yan an ace in the hole.

             “Hey, Merry,” he said as if the idea had just occurred to him, “maybe we should give Addie a call. She was pretty pissed off at you for not inviting her along.”

             “Yeah.You’d think she’d be more reasonable, what with my Dad and his rules.” Merry said forlornly. “No cell phone reception for miles, though.”

             “The monastery has Skype. Brother Isaiah was just telling me yesterday that he orders special ingredients from London.”

             “I’d forgotten that.” Merry’s smile could be used to power up a small city. “Let’s go ask him."


	2. Chapter 2

            Jack rubbed his injured knuckles.

             “But they’re good,” he whined. “Can’t I have just one little taste?”

             Ianto laughed. “Give it up, Mrs. Bolton. He’ll hound you until you do.”

             Their housekeeper brandished the wooden spoon she had used on Jack’s hand.

             “I’ll have you know I’ve kept dozens of children away from the pudding bowl in my time, Mr. Ianto.”  She tried giving Jack a stern look, but then relented with a sigh. “Very well, then. One piece each, then out of my kitchen until our guests arrive.”

             The two men retreated from Mrs. Bolton’s domain, each carrying a piping-hot chocolate meringue.

             “Never fails,” Jack chuckled. “She’s the softest touch that ever lived.”

             “And you are still a con man.” Ianto bit into the meringue and moaned with pleasure. “Good job.”

             “Thank you, Mr. Jones.” Jack landed a kiss in the vicinity of Ianto’s mouth and proceeded to lick the crumbs from his lips. “You know, hiring that woman was one of my better ideas.”

             “No argument from me.” Ianto grabbed Jack’s collar and pulled him closer. “Now kiss me properly.”

             “My pleasure.” Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist and leaned in to comply with his lover’s demand. “I…. dammit.”

             The sound of the doorbell had broken the spell. Jack sighed. “Five quid it’s Rhys and Gwen.”

             Ianto slapped Jack’s arse lightly. “Behave. Go open the door. I’ll get some drinks.”

             Jack grumbled all the way. Pulling open the door, he glared at his second in command. “I was just about to kiss Ianto.”

             “Poor baby.” Gwen patted his cheek. “Me, I got thoroughly kissed this morning. And this afternoon.”

             “And other things, too, I’ll bet, with the house empty of kids.”

             “Yeah, Grandma Francine and Aunt Tish really come in handy, don’t they?”

             Gwen smirked at her boss as she moved past him. Rhys was a bit more circumspect, but his grin told Jack everything he needed to know. As Jack started to follow them, the doorbell rang again. When he opened the door, he found the rest of his team standing there.

             “Hey, guys. You car pool or something?”

             “Actually, we did.” Doctor Tom Milligan answered. “John and Andy wanted to try out the new Land Rover.”

             “Suddenly I am not having a very good day,” Jack said ominously. “What part of _Jack gets to try out the toys first_ did we miss?”

             “Cranky, Jack?” Martha kissed his cheek. “Tell you what, you and Ianto can join us this weekend. Tom wants to put his new baby through its paces.”

             “It’s a deal. Maybe.” He backpedalled. “I’ll have to ask Ianto.”

             “Wise at last.” Martha tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and pulled him along. “Come on, let’s get a glass of wine and relax. In fact, let’s get more than relaxed. All the little birds are away from the nest. I can pass out in your guest room.”

             Gwen walked up to them carrying a tall frosty glass. ‘Martha, you’ve got to try this. Mrs. Bolton has been surfing the web again. She found this great cocktail. Here, have a sip.”

             Martha obliged. “Wow.  That packs a kick. What’s it called?”

             “Sex with the Captain.” One look at Jack’s face and Gwen dissolved in giggles. “No, really. She showed me the web page.”

             Jack put one arm around each woman. “Well, come on, ladies. Let’s give Sex with the Captain a try.”

             “Oi!” Rhys said. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

             “I know. I was at the wedding, remember?”

             “And we’re about the only ones who do!”

             “You know, all through my wedding day I was expecting the roof to cave in.” Tom said. “My happiest moment was when we got on the plane to the Bahamas and absolutely nothing had happened.”

             “If I remember correctly,” Ianto said, “the Judoon landed outside Abergavenny two hours later and all hell broke loose.”

             “Yes, but we didn’t even find out about it until we got back!”

             Jack sat back, glass in hand – it was actually a decent cocktail, although a bit too sweet for his taste – and watched his small family tease and joke with each other. It still amazed him that these people had battered down his protective walls, refusing to take no for an answer. Now, he couldn’t image his life without them. He had even come to terms with the knowledge that they would die and leave him behind; now there were nephews and nieces to take care of, whole generations for him to protect.

             And Ianto… In the four years since Neith had placed a TARDIS around his wrist, Ianto had been undergoing a massive transformation that didn’t show any signs of slowing. Martha had been the first one to notice it. Ianto had broken his wrist clambering around the ruins at Caerleon. Three days later it was almost completely healed. Martha had put Ianto through a complete set of tests, and the results had been so startling that she had called in the Doctor. _He_ had been so spooked that he had thrown every test the TARDIS could come up with at Ianto, who submitted only because Jack insisted.

             Ianto’s body was mutating; the word the Doctor had used was _optimizing_. Every organ, every cell, was being fine-tuned. Cell growth and replacement had speeded up and balanced until a sort of perfect self-renewal had been achieved. Physically, Ianto hadn’t aged a day in four years. Strangest of all, Ianto’s brain was growing, virtual tracks being laid over and between the layers of his neural network, which was also being reconnected and retooled.

             “It’s like his mind is growing in six dimensions,” the Doctor remarked to Jack. “I think we’re seeing the birth of a new species of Time Lord, Jack. Or something like it, or maybe not. By the way, whatever is happening, both TARDIS are unbearably smug about it.”

             On being asked, the TARDIS only said that the changes were essential. They got quite cranky if pressed for more information.

             ‘Hey,” Ianto’s voice dragged Jack out of his reverie. “You ok?”

             He took Ianto’s hand and tangled their fingers together. “All good.”

             On the other side of the room, Martha stared at the screen of her mobile then pressed the “answer” button. “Addie? Is anything wrong?”

             She listened for a while, then started to sputter a reply, but was obviously cut off. After it happened a couple of more times, she shrugged. “All right, young lady, but we will have a talk about this at some point, you hear me?”

             She placed the phone on the coffee table in front of Jack and waved everyone around. “Go ahead, Addie.”

             “Uncle Jack?” Adeola Milligan-Jones had a rich contralto voice and managed to sound eerily like her grandmother. “I think there’s a problem up in Scotland.”

             Gwen and Rhys looked worried.

             “Addie? Gwen and Rhys are right here. Is this the kind of problem Yan and Pryce would want their parents to know about?”

             Gwen started to speak but was silenced by a touch from Rhys.

             “It’s nothing like that, Uncle Jack. This is Torchwood kind of trouble.”

             “Addie…”

             “Look, Uncle Jack, sorry to drop it on you like this, but we know who you are and what you do. What everyone does, ok? We’ve known for a long time. We can go into the nasty details later.” As the gobsmacked adults absorbed the information, she continued. “I got a call from the guys. The guide Mr. Conway hired took them to St. Catherine’s Glen. They’re staying at the monastery there. I googled it and it’s legitimate, a retreat center and b&b deal, but…”

             “Addie, nothing legitimate ever came out of St. Catherine’s Glen.” Jack’s shift from ‘Uncle Jack’ to ‘Captain Jack Harkness’ was obvious to everyone. “What did they say?”

             “That’s just it. It’s what they weren’t saying, or the way they were saying it.” Suddenly she sounded very young and uncertain. “Remember when we were kids and used to talk in code to drive you all nuts? It was like that. They kept calling me ‘sister Dahlia.’ All I can think of is the time I went to the dance club with Dahlia Stevens and came back after midnight and I was in deep shit with Mom and Dad for months. And Yan asked me if our neighbour Mrs. Legras had gotten over the trouble with her dog. _Madame Legras de St. Germain_ is the name of the roses we helped grandma plant last year, Uncle Jack. And the only Rose we know who’s ever been in trouble with a dog…”

             “Thanks, Addie. You did good.” Jack stood up. “Gwen, Rhys, go home and pack some hiking clothes. Ianto and I will be by to pick you up in an hour. John, find out about the new inhabitants of St. Catherine’s Glen and why the hell Torchwood hasn’t heard about it until now.  Martha, get a hold of UNIT. We need a helicopter and a hell of a lot of information. Mrs. Bolton, I’m sorry, but…”

             “Not to worry, Captain. I’ll put together some things you can eat on the run. As for the rest of you, you can eat at the office just as well as here.”

             She bustled off to the kitchen as Jack and Ianto headed to the bedroom to pack.

             “I don’t understand anything,” Tom Milligan said resignedly. “As usual.”

             “Neither do I,” said Andy in an identical tone.

             Martha waited until the door had closed behind Gwen and Rhys, then turned to the three men still in the room. “That’s ok, guys. I’ll tell you the story of Rose Tyler and the werewolf on the way to the Hub.”


	3. Chapter 3

      They made camp in a small stand of black alders that clung to the sides of the rocky bank of the stream. Booth had been peculiarly insistent in the layout of the tents: Merry and Don in the one nearest the water, then Booth’s larger one, then Pryce and Yan in a small clearing among the trees.Two of the monks had casually shown up towards afternoon carrying fishing poles and basket of potatoes and onions.

      “Aren’t we the happy little campers?” muttered Yan.

      "Yeah. Big filleting knives, too.” Pryce answered. “They keep looking around for something. Booth is a little more discreet, but he’s doing it too.”

      “Let’s go join the fun, shall we?”

      Yan grabbed one of the poles and headed to the spot where Booth and Merry were standing. Pryce followed. He watched as Yan adroitly detached Merry from the Scotsman, instigating a water fight and pulling Don into the fray. He also noticed that after one of Merry’s more spectacular dunkings one of the monks had started towards them angrily, but was stopped by Booth.

      They did enough fishing that there was stew for supper that evening. Whatever else the man may have been, Pryce was willing to concede Booth was a superb cook. Merry got another dose of medication with his bowl of stew, which he was told with great fanfare was the last he would ever need to take.

      After supper they sat around the fire, but there wasn’t much conversation. The monks’ presence cast a pall over the group. Even Booth seemed withdrawn. It was a warm night, with the moon nearly full, and a scattering of stars peeking through the clouds sailing overhead. The berries in the mistletoe clinging to the branches of the alders gleamed in the moonlight. There was a sort of odd expectancy in the air, or maybe it was just the way Booth and the monks kept twitching with every little sound.

      “I’m going to bed,” Merry announced, finally breaking the awkward silence. “I’m feeling a little tired. Yan, don’t forget to look for that map. I’m sure I put it in your pack, and we promised your uncle Andy we would give him a full report.”

      “Uncle Andy?” asked Booth.

      “Yan and Pryce’s uncle. Keen on nature photography.” Merry gave a big wave. “He’s always looking for something new to photograph. All of us scout for him whenever we travel.”

      Booth nodded, seemingly mollified. “Ok, guys, you know what to do.”

      They set to banking the fire and cleaning up the pots and utensils. Merry started singing _Men of Harlech_ ; Yan, Don, and even Pryce joined in. Merry had the strongest voice of all of them, and as the song climbed to its climax, the others dropped back to a melodic, wordless hum. As Merry reached the final notes, another sound joined in, so startling that even though Pryce and Yan had been expecting it, they could not help but shudder.

      It was the howl of a wolf.

      “Lupus magnum est, lupus fortis est, lupus deus est” chanted Booth and the monks into the sudden silence.

      “What the hell was that?” asked Don.

      “A feral dog,” Booth replied easily. “There are some around here. We think it’s city people leaving them to fend for themselves.”

      “That’s sick!”

      Booth shrugged. “It happens.” He walked back to his tent, taking the monks with him.

      Merry looked at Pryce and Yan. “If that’s a dog, it’s the bloody hound of the bloody Baskervilles,” he whispered.

      “Wolf,” Yan said. “Merry, we need to talk.”

      “Yeah. When they go off for Compline, ok?”

      Yan nodded. They waited until Booth and the monks had retreated to the guide’s tent for their evening prayers before cramming into Merry’s tent.

      “Don, I’m sorry, but you’re going to hear some things that are going to sound really strange, ok?” He waited until the other guy nodded. “Ok. Merry, what the hell is going on? Uncle Andy?”

      “Well, I knew it would get your attention! And I don’t know… no, that’s not true. Something happened while we were in Spain. Dad’s business started having troubles. Money went missing, they thought Dad may have taken it. A man came to see him. I thought it was a policeman, but I think it may have been one of the monks.”

      "These guys?”

      “I think so. Brother Athelstane, the forester? I caught a glimpse of him in the monastery. I’d swear it was the same guy. He and Dad had a long meeting and when they came out of the study they were both really pissed off. I heard Dad say he wanted no part of that damned superstition…But then all of us got sick, except Dad, and Mom died…The monk showed up again the day after the funeral. That night Dad started giving us new medicine and Leah and I got better almost overnight. All the business problems disappeared… Two months later we were back in Cardiff.”

      “Merry,” Yan said. “You think your Dad is involved in this?”

      Merry nodded miserably. “Whatever it is. And it’s about me, right? Dad’s turned me over to them for some reason.”

      “I’m sorry, Merry, I’m so sorry.” Yan said.

      “Guys,” Don interrupted. “There’s something you should know. My Dad’s been having business troubles too. I didn’t want to come on this trip, no offence, yeah? But my Dad ordered me to. He was almost frantic about it.”

      “Fuck.” Pryce swore. “A permanent host and a first transmission? So what are we?”

      “Food.” Said Yan chillingly. “They will need to feed as soon as the change happens. Merry, did you ever mention Torchwood to your Dad? Ever?”

      “No, but… he knew about it some, I think. I caught him looking at some papers once, and they looked like… well, like some of the things you showed me.”

      "Torchwood?” Don asked.

      “Long story.” Yan said. “So maybe your dad figured it out and it’s trying to help you out? Or they hope killing us will throw Torchwood into disarray as they make their move?”

      Merry hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know!”

      Pryce patted his back. “No worries, Merry. We sent out an SOS.”

      “I know. When we called Addie, you told her somehow.”

      “You guessed?”

      Merry gave a weak little chuckle. “Well, I remembered the name of those damned rosebushes we spent days lugging around for Mrs. Jones last summer!”

      “Yeah. She’ll let Uncle Jack know.”

      “We’re going to have to move before then,” said Yan. “It’s going to be a full moon tomorrow night.”

      “This has something to do with what happened here, right?” Merry said, “What you told me about Queen Victoria?”

      “I think so.”

      “What are we going to do?” Merry swallowed hard, then stiffened. “I’ll be damned if I play host to a… whatever the hell that thing is… without a fight.”

      Yan grinned recklessly. “We’re going to make a run for Torchwood House.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

            Gwen pressed her forehead against the glass and stared down at the ground rushing past. Somehow, as the years had passed, she had come to believe that she had succeeded in keeping the madness that was Torchwood away from her children. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of what she did; but it was dangerous, terrifying, exhilarating stuff, and she wanted normality for her children. She gave a chuckle that was half sob. She should have known her kids would inherit her attraction to all the glittery things with sharp edges.

             And now her boys had run into the Torchwood buzz-saw.

             She grabbed Rhys’s hand and pressed their palms together. God, he had put up with so much over the years! He was the core of the family, the rock that kept all of them grounded. It had been touch-and-go at the beginning, what with her own infatuation with Jack, and Rhys’s alpha-male need to establish his primacy in her life. But they had worked through it, and had emerged with a strong marriage and a solid family that, amazingly enough, had come to include the man whose presence had nearly wrecked it in the first place. Even Rhys acknowledged that “Uncle Jack” had saved their sanity more than once as the twins hit puberty. And funny enough, Rhys was the only one who seemed to find the sight of a partnered, monogamous Jack Harkness totally natural. _Deep down the poor sod’s  a romantic, cariad,_ he had told her once when she had worried about Ianto’s standing in Jack’s life, _and now he has someone who matches him strength for strength. Jack doesn’t need anyone else._

             She felt the helicopter start its descent. Jack had commandeered the fastest ship in UNIT’s hangar; the look on the Captain’s face was enough to cut through the usual red tape. They had been on their way to Scotland fifteen minutes after driving past UNIT’s checkpoints. Now they were landing in the helipad of what looked like a hospital or clinic in the outskirts of a picturesque small town. Several vehicles, including an SUV similar to their own, were parked in the access road beyond. A small group of people waited beside them.

             As soon as the helicopter landed, Jack opened the door and jumped out, keeping low to avoid the still-whirling blades. A woman detached herself from the waiting group and rushed to meet him.

             “Captain Harkness, I’m Jane MacLeish from…” Her eyes slid past him to the three people coming up behind him and she stiffened in shock. “Ianto!”

             “Jane!” Ianto opened his arms and she threw herself into them, hugging him tightly. “It’s been a long time.”

             “I thought you had left Torchwood,” she said, almost accusingly. “Off gallivanting with your camera.”

             “He came back.” Jack smiled easily, tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and hurried them all along towards the SUV. “So, Jane, you and Ianto, Canary Wharf?”

             She tossed a laughing look over he shoulder at a grinning Ianto, who was walking along with Rhys and Gwen.  

             “Yes, sir. He was assigned to our team as researcher in several cases.” She sobered up quickly. “We were in the Philippines when… it happened. The four of us came back to nothing. Mike and Allan chose retcon. Ianto helped Gordon and I join Torchwood Two. Such as it is.”

             “Archie not living up to his reputation?”

             She snorted with amusement. “No, that he does. In spades. It’s just that, after London, everything seems so low key.”

             “Well, if it’s excitement you wanted, you’ve got it.” Jack opened the passenger-side door on the SUV. “I’ll drive. It’s a familiar road. Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, in the back. We can all get the information at the same time. Jane MacLeish, Rhys and Gwen Cooper-Williams.”

             “We’re doing our best to find your boys, Mr. & Mrs. Williams.”

             “Thank you, and it’s Rhys and Gwen. “ Rhys ushered Gwen into the car and climbed in behind her. “Jack, where are we going?”

             “Torchwood House. The founding place of our institution.” Jack waited until everyone strapped in then started the car and set out at his usual manic pace. “Jane, what have you found out?”

             “The Brethren of the Order of St. Francis is an offshoot of the Franciscans. They have been around for two hundred years or so. It was never a large group. Up to the nineteen sixties, they had three monasteries, two in Italy and one in Spain. The membership started to dwindle at that time and like most monastic orders they never managed to stem the tide. About twelve years ago the remaining monks decided to sell off all their European assets and use the money to lease the St. Catherine’s Glen property and rebuild. I spoke to the solicitors for the Durwood Estate and everything was handled legally, and there were no unusual clauses, nothing to would raise concern. There was nothing at the European end either.”

             _*She’s not quite telling the truth, Jack*_

             _*Yeah, I get the same feeling. Maybe it’s just that she has some classified information she doesn’t know what to do with. Keep an eye on her anyway”_

_*Will do*_

            Jane cleared her throat. “Can I ask a question without giving offence?”

             “Sure,” Jack replied.

             “Could the boys be playing a practical joke?”

             “No.” Jack spoke the single word with total conviction. “They are many, many things, but stupid they’re not. Even if they were willing to piss me off, there’s still their mother. Nobody pisses off Gwen on purpose.”

             “Then whatever is happening started after the monks arrived here.”

             “Perhaps, but let’s not jump to conclusions.”

             “Jack,” Rhys said, “what’s this all about? All I know about the founding of Torchwood is the short, approved version. Queen Victoria created Torchwood to protect the Empire from alien threats after meeting the Doctor. What’s left out?”

             “All the important parts, actually. Queen Victoria was on the way back to Balmoral when she ran into the Doctor and his Companion, Rose Tyler. They all ended up staying overnight at Torchwood House, which had been taken over by a group of monks from the monastery at St. Catherine’s Glen. The monks were under the control of a lupine wavelength haemovariform alien. They were using a local boy to act as host. It made him change to a werewolf with the full moon. Anyone bitten by the host when it was in lupine form would become a werewolf also, and could pass on the infection to others. The alien wanted to take over the Empire and infecting the Royal Family was to be the first step. The Doctor destroyed the host and saved Queen Victoria, who repaid him by overreacting in usual Victoria fashion and first knighting him and then banishing him from Earth and creating the Torchwood Institute.”

             “But what does this have to do with the boys? It’s not bloody likely they could use them to take over anything in this day and age.”

             “Don’t underestimate your children, Rhys. But in this case I agree with you. Haemovariforms are basically unstable. They can’t hold on to its host without doing a great deal of damage, so they have to change hosts often. Maybe the boys were tagged because they are foreigners to the region. Less mess if they don’t have to use locals.”

             “But if the Doctor destroyed it…”

             “All they needed were a few cells that could be implanted in a host. It’ll pass from one host to the other, growing and maturing as it goes.” Jack drummed on the steering wheel. “The last time it was defeated only because the Doctor was around, quite accidentally, and because Sir Robert MacLeish’s father had done a lot of research into the local werewolf legend and had prepared for trouble.”

             “MacLeish?” Gwen said softly. “Relations of yours, Jane?”

             “No ma’am. Same family name, but there are MacLeishes all over the central part of Scotland. I’m a Borderer myself, my family looks to the Kerrs. The MacLeishes of Torchwood House were associated with the MacPhersons.”

             The SUV slewed through the Torchwood House gates and came to an abrupt stop in the courtyard. An identical vehicle was parked by the front doors, which were standing wide open. Blood stained the steps and someone had left a bloody handprint on the brass plaque above the doorbell.

             “Weapons, everyone. Gwen, Rhys, with me. Jane, Ianto, rear.”

             Jack charged up the steps. The entrance hall was spattered with blood. Two men in clothes resembling military camouflage lay face down on the parquet floor. A third man, dressed in an ordinary business suit, had managed to crawl half-way up the stairs. He was still alive but the rasping sounds coming from his chest did not hold out much hope. Jack waved Ianto and Gwen to the rooms at either side.

             “Gordon!” Jane ran past Jack to kneel by the man’s head. “What happened?”

             “Checked house. Everything… ok… send others out to search. Bastards…showed up... bloody, fucking…rejects from a kung-fu movie…got them, but…”

             Blood dribbled from his mouth and nose as his last breath rattled out.

             “Damn.” Jane stroked his hair for a moment then stood up to face Jack. “Now what, Captain Harkness?”

             “Now we go looking for our boys.”

             Ianto, Gwen, and Rhys emerged from the other rooms.

             “All clear, Jack.”

             “Let’s get back in the SUVs. Gwen, Rhys, with me. Ianto, with Jane.” Jack pulled a map out of his pocket. “If I were Pryce and Yan I would be making a mad dash for Torchwood House right about now. There are only a couple of places between here and St. Catherine’s Glen that can serve as camping grounds. We’ll head for those and let the boys find us.”

             “But the monks must know we're aware of what's going on by now. They could just lay low and wait until everything settles down. They could have taken them anywhere!” Jane objected.

             “No. Gordon killed the two that showed up here, so they couldn't send out an SOS. The ones out on the Glen still think their plan is working. Besides, they seem to be taking their plays from the old playbook.That means the House itself is the primary target."

             “It’s Torchwood they want this time around,” Ianto said softly.

             “Yeah, I think so. Torchwood Two sends someone up here once or twice a month for a few days, just to make sure everything is fine. Infecting that person would give them a direct pipeline to all of Torchwood, and through us, to UNIT.  A takeover of the two organizations specifically trained to deal with alien threats would leave Earth defenseless.”


	5. Chapter 5

            Pryce pulled aside a corner of the tent flap and peered out. “They left a guard.”

             “I wonder if it’s to keep us in or keep the wolf out.” Yan picked up a small rucksack. “You’ve got your knife?”

             “Don’t ask stupid questions, junior.”

             “All right. You or me?”

             “Me. You’re the one with the trick memory. If something happens to you, we’re screwed.” He lifted the flap. “Show time.”

             He walked openly towards the far side of the small grove, making enough noise to attract the attention of the man sitting outside Booth’s tent. He moved fast, trying to act like a guy with a too full bladder, all the time praying to God the monk was buying his act. Pryce could not remember ever been as scared as he was at this point. They were in way over their heads, and all they could do was try to survive until Uncle Jack and the others arrived. He wondered if his mother had felt the same gut-churning mix of terror and adrenaline the first time she faced Torchwood trouble.

             He was wound up enough that he didn’t have to fake being startled when a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder.

             “What the fuck?” He spun around, pushing the monk away angrily. “You want to give me a heart attack?”

             “Where are you going?” the man whispered.

             “Where do you think?” He pointed at his crotch. “I wasn’t going to take a piss in the middle of camp, was I?”

             “All right, all right.” The monk looked around nervously. “Hurry up and lets…”

             He went down in a heap at Pryce’s feet as Yan brought down the heavy end of Don’s walking stick on the back of his head. Pryce and Merry dragged him behind some rocks and used his own rope belt to tie his hands and feet.

             “Slow them down a little,” Pryce muttered. “Yan, go! I don't think we have much time.”

             They moved as fast as they could across the uneven, rocky ground. There was just enough moonlight to let them see most things in silhouette, but not enough to dispel the shadows. They couldn’t afford to come too close to possible hiding places, so they moved out in the open, paralleling the stream, trying to gain as much of a lead as they could before Booth noticed they were gone.

             After about an hour, they forded the shallow stream and followed the opposite bank until they reached a narrow track that led up into the hills.

             “Torchwood House is about four miles on the other side of that hill. It’s an easy climb, but there’s no cover at all.” Yan closed his eyes briefly, visualizing the map. “Except for a couple of cairns we can use as a last resort.”

             Halfway up the hill they heard the first sounds of pursuit. A wolf howled once, twice, three times, and then came a shriek and loud growls.

             “Move!” Pryce screamed. “Now!”

             They pelted up the track, hearing the sounds come closer and closer.  Pryce looked over his shoulder. He could see Booth and one of the monks running the opposite bank of the stream. They were followed at a distance by the second monk, who was lurching along, holding his side. Even at a distance Pryce could see the blood staining his robe.

             He couldn’t see the wolf, but he could hear the growls coming closer. It wasn’t hunting like a regular wolf. If the Nature Channel was to be believed, wolves hunted silently, stalking their prey. This thing snuffled and growled as it went, as inexpert at hunting as they were at being hunted.

             The problem was stamina. Merry was nearing exhaustion and the rest of them were not too far behind. Wolves could run for hours without resting…

             He reminded himself this thing was alien. He couldn’t be sure it would have the same physical resources the terran animal would. Still, everything he had read in the Torchwood files about haemovariforms suggested that they were very powerful while in animal form.

             The track turned downhill suddenly, and the going became much easier. What they could see of the glen below didn’t seem very different from what they had left behind, except for two large round hills a short distance off to the left.

             “The MacLeish cairns.” Yan pointed. “If we can get there before they catch up with us we can hole up and keep them out until sunrise. The bigger one has a longer, narrow entrance passage and a big chamber with a sort of fire pit in the middle.”

             “How do you know?” Don asked.

             “Yan has perfect memory,” Merry answered. “If he’s seen it once he remembers it.”

             They left the track and made a beeline for the cairns. By now they were gasping for air. Don seemed in particularly bad shape, barely keeping up with the others. Clouds had begun to mass overhead and a cool, wet wind blew across the glen. They stumbled in the sudden darkness, trying to keep the cairns and each other in sight.

             Pryce saw Don stumble and fall to his knees right before he heard the sound of rocks tumbling down the hill behind them. He grabbed Don by the back of the shirt and hauled him to his feet.

             “Move it, Don!”

             But Don, half-dazed, had turned around to face the other direction. Even in the weak light Pryce could see the horror in his eyes. His right hand jerked up, pointing at something behind Pryce as a strangled scream forced itself through tightly clamped lips.

             Pryce turned. The werewolf stood on a rocky outcrop above them, outlined by the weak moonlight. It was a mockery of a human being and a mockery of a wolf, a two-legged thing covered with matted fur, yellowed fangs distorting its thick-lipped mouth. Long, powerful arms reached down to its knees, clawed hands and feet flexing spasmodically.

             “Duw.”

             The sight froze him for a moment, then he grabbed Don’s arm and started to run, pulling him along. It felt as if he were trying to tow the hill itself. Don was stiff with terror and he kept stumbling and dragging Pryce down with him.

             The wolf’s howl warned the other two of what was happening. Yan and Merry started to turn back, but Pryce screamed at them to keep going.

             They had almost reached the cairns when the werewolf caught up with them. Pryce shoved Don out of the way and turned to face it. The thing moved fast, loping over the ground in great big jumps, the claws of its hands extended. Pryce tried to drop and charge into its lower body, but he stumbled over Don, who was crawling blindly in circles. He felt agonizing pain as the werewolf’s claw bit into his shoulder and scraped down his chest, but it was anger that drove  him as he shoved himself head first into the monstrosity in front of him.  He was furious at dying here, in the middle of a cold Scottish glen, just because some stupid fuckers wanted to own the earth.  His anger translated into a mental scream that seemed to fill his head and resonate endlessly.

  _*Uncle Jack!*_

             Unbelievably, the last thing he heard as he collapsed was an answer.

             _*Pryce?!*_


	6. Chapter 6

             Ianto hung on as the SUV jolted over the rutted track. At Torchwood One Jane MacLeish had had a reputation for reckless behavior, and if her driving was anything to go by, the reports were, if anything, much too understated.

             The sun was low in the horizon, and shadows riddled the glen with imaginary movement. The air smelled of lightning and green apples, a combination he had come to associate with alien presence, but the usually pleasant smell was overlaid by a stench of wet fur that was recognizably different from that of a dog. The werewolf had passed through this area two or three days before.

             The improved – hell, transformed – sense of smell had been the first change he really had noticed. The TARDIS has explained that as his neural networks evolved his human senses would expand. When asked how much, it had given the mental equivalent of a shrug.

  _*It has never happened before. Several stages above present human development, certainly.*_

It had been hideously difficult at first. The new sensory inputs had nearly overwhelmed his ability to process them, but with the TARDIS and Jack’s help he had learned to control them and to some extent manipulate them. One delightful side effect he had discovered was an ability to turn Jack’s fifty-first century pheromones against him. Just thinking about the results of that little experiment made him chuckle.

             “Now that’s an obscene little sound,” Jane remarked with a chuckle of her own. “Thinking about Jack?”

             “As a matter of fact… yes.”

             “Archie said he was a right bastard to deal with the first few months after you left. Even afterwards he said Jack wasn’t quite the same.” She frowned. “He must have known you were back, but didn’t say anything.”

             Ianto had been wondering the same thing since their meeting at the helipad. He had spoken to Archie and his archivist, Helena Blount, several times since his return. Archie was an inveterate gossip and keeping that sort of news to himself was uncharacteristic, to say the least.

             “You know Archie,” he answered easily, “eccentricity is his middle name.”

             “Now that’s the truth. So tell me, are you back in Torchwood full time?”

             “Duw, no. I’m here because of the kids.”

             “They are very important to you?”

             “Gwen, Rhys, Jack, and I went through a lot together. Then Gwen had difficulties conceiving. Doctors told her she would likely never have children. The four of us got pissed and cried like babies that night. When the twins arrived it was like we all became parents. They were even born in the Hub. Gwen was off field duty but would still manage all the liaison work. She went into labor and Martha had to deliver the babies right then and there. It was Martha’s first full day of work and she had just found out she was three months pregnant. Wild night, that one.”

             “I noticed she named one of them after you but the other one wasn’t named after Jack.”

             Ianto couldn’t miss the speculation. “Jack said there were enough Jacks in the world already and his real name wasn’t pretty enough. Instead he demanded the right to name the baby. The whole of Torchwood Three walked around nearly hysterical for three days until he announced his decision. Pryce is actually an old Welsh surname, ap Rhys.”

             “Rhys’s son. Very traditional.”

             “Jack can be that way when the spirit moves him. Of course, when Toshi came along later… Rhys says they had her for Jack.”

             “You are a family,” Jane sounded wistful. “Torchwood Three is becoming damn near a legend, you know.”

             “Jack gets quite a kick out of that. So tell me about you, Jane. How’s Torchwood Two treating you? Any interesting gossip you’d care to pass along?”

             She laughed and proceeded to regale him with tales of Archie’s wild antics. He listened and laughed at all the appropriate moments but his mind ranged, scanning the area around him. There were signs everywhere, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source.

             _*Ianto.*_

 _*Yes, Jack.*_ It still amazed him how effortless the Joining had become. _*News?*_

_*John’s on the phone. Can you listen in?*_

_*Yes.*_

             “Your friend in Scotland wasn’t very thorough.” Listening through Jack’s ears made John’s voice sound oddly amplified. “The Brethren of St. John are not exactly persona grata at the Vatican. The moment I mentioned them they battened down the hatches and went into full battle mode.”

             “So you got nothing?”

             “Please. I called Isabella. That was a great idea of yours, Jack. Torchwood Italy’s tight with all the right powers that be. When you add to that the Branciforte name… does Eye-Candy know that his aristocratic former flame is also papal nobility?”

             _*Yes. Get on with it, blabbermouth.*_

There was a brief silence at the other end. “Well, that was a new experience. Anyway. Isabella’s contact told her that the Brethren ran out of town one step ahead of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, also known once upon a time as the Holy Inquisition. For good reason, apparently. Isabella says he tried to give her the old ‘unnatural practices’ bromide at first, but after she poured a little more wine he spilled the beans. It turns out the Brethren engaged in religious practice that was, to put it mildly, unorthodox. Worship of wolves, ecstatic pseudo-transformation. Also, when I checked on their Spain operations, I found that the Guardia Civil was after them because several young novices had died or disappeared under very strange circumstances.”

             “Jane should have known that, at least.”

             “I thought so. I looked up her record and she seems to be a competent agent.”

             “Thanks, John.” Jack terminated the call. _*Ianto?*_

_*John’s right. She should have known about the Spain situation. And she certainly should have reported the Vatican’s stonewalling.*_

_*Look after yourself, ok?*_

_*Yeah.*_

             He felt Jack disengage, leaving behind the image of a lingering kiss.  His – lover? mate? One? – seemed to find it easier to communicate his emotions non-verbally. After sending back an appropriate response, he turned his attention to the immediate problem.

             He would need to deal with Jane.

             She had been, if not actually a friend, a good colleague, but now he wondered how deep her involvement with the Brethren ran. If she had been recruited recently, there was a good chance she could be turned back, but Ianto had a feeling there was more to it than that. Archie’s unusual reticence spoke of something seriously amiss. The eccentric Scotsman was a hell of a good judge of character; if he doubted Jane, Ianto would follow suit until proven wrong.

             _*She has belonged to them from childhood.*_ The TARDIS sounded sad. _*Twisted in emotion and reasoning. You must leave her behind. Keeping the Riftborn from harm is most important now.*_

             _*The what?*_

_*Their mother comes from a long lineage of Rift talents. Their father’s lineage has deep roots in the soil of Wales and carries a great deal of its character. They were born on the Rift itself. They hold much promise.*_

_*All right. How do I go about it?*_

_*Like this.*_

            he instructions that flowed into his mind left Ianto reeling. _*I can do that?*_

             _*Yes.*_ Ianto’s wild, disjointed thoughts seemed to amuse the TARDIS immensely. _*Well, you could have sound effects if you like, but that is more of an eccentricity of that particular TARDIS.*_

“You have one of those looks again,” Jane remarked. “Have you been listening to me at all?”

             He touched her wrist gently. “I’m so sorry, Jane.”

             “What?”

             He saw her draw back in shock and terror as he began to fade from view, but he had no time for anything else but the overwhelming shock of entering the Vortex. The wild beauty and strength of it pushed against his senses. His mind expanded, again and yet again, trying to encompass its infinity, but all he could do was to dive deep into it until he could see the strands of Spacetime itself, curving, weaving, interlacing.  There was so much there that even Time Lords had not understood.  

             He was attracted to a group of strands that wove themselves tightly around two thick cords, one bronze, one deepest azure, and were themselves surrounded by yet another of a color he could not name. The azure strand looped and wove back and forth exuberantly; warmth seemed to pour from it, distinct and yet part of the Vortex itself. The bronze one seemed to float alone in the center, but the others twinned themselves around it again and again, and its light washed over them like a benediction.  In the distance he could see… he laughed. Oh, the Time Lord was in for a surprise indeed!

             _*No time now. Look.*_

             One of the smaller cords seemed to be fraying. Ianto tightened his hand on it, searching.

             _*Uncle Jack!*_

             The sound resonated inside his head as a fountain of red-gold energy burst upwards right through his fingers.

             _*Pryce?!*_


	7. Chapter 7

            Jack slammed on the brakes as Ianto materialized in his headlights. A small part of his mind noted Gwen’s scream and Rhys’s inventive Welsh curses, but the largest part was busy trying to keep from whimpering in superstitious terror. A couple of millennia’s worth of cultural development hadn’t managed to eradicate the influence of the tiny primate hindbrain that insisted the thing in front of him was something dangerous and alien.

  _*I‘m sorry, cariad, I’m sorry! I didn’t think!*_

_*God almighty, Ianto. What in hell is going on?*_

Ianto slid into the back seat of the SUV. “We need to get to the MacLeish cairns. The boys are there.”

             They were all thrown back as the SUV lurched forward. It jolted across the glen at full speed, skidding dangerously on the wet stone of a narrow bridge, then racing along a drover’s track that wound around the base of a small hillock. Clouds now obscured the moon, leaving the landscape around them in near total darkness and making the going even more dangerous.

             Ianto reached out to touch Gwen’s hand. She shrank away briefly, then returned the gesture. Their fingers twined as Gwen held on tightly, as if reassuring herself he was real.

             “It’s me, Gwennie, really. Don’t be scared.”

             “Ianto…”

             “We’ll talk about it, sweetheart, I promise, but… I’m sorry, but Pryce’s been hurt.” He winced as her hand became a vise around his wrist. “He’s alive, I swear, but we need to get him back to Torchwood House as fast as possible.”

             In the front seat, Jack reached out to touch Rhys’s shoulder.

             “Drive faster, Jack.”

             The Welshman’s voice was gravelly with sorrow.  Jack nodded and concentrated on keeping the SUV from flipping over as they careened over the rocky ground. The track rose steadily for a while then dropped away. Jack didn’t even bother with brakes. The SUV sailed over the crest and landed with a jarring bounce half-way down the slope.

             Suddenly the clouds parted and moonlight washed briefly over the glen, momentarily outlining the massive stone cairns at the far end. They  glimpsed several shapes gathered around the entrance to the largest tomb. One of them was definitely not human.

             _*Ianto. Can you get inside the cairn from here?*_

_*Yes. Cariad, will you Join with me?*_

_*Do you need to ask?*_

_*You were upset when I arrived.*_

_*I thought you were… I don’t know what I thought. But I will always be here . With you. Joined to you for as long as you want.*_  He felt Ianto’s relief as his partner relaxed into his mental embrace. _So what did you learn this time?*_

 _*How to ride the Vortex without having to cling to the outside of a police box!*_ Ianto giggled mischievously then sobered up. _*I’ll tell you the details later.*_

             He kissed Gwen’s knuckles. “I’m going to get your boys, Gwennie.”

             He disappeared between two heartbeats. Gwen waved her hand through the space where he had been.  “Jack…”

             The soft, hesitant voice reminded Jack of the young officer he had recruited thirty-odd years before, and he felt the old need to protect her. Only the certain knowledge that Gwen would kick his arse into next year if she caught him at it kept him from offering some facile reassurance. Or maybe it was that he respected her – them – too much to lie.

             “I don’t know what’s going on either, Gwen, but it’s still Ianto. That much I do know.”

             “Then my kids are in the best of hands. Now let’s go get us a nice wolf-skin rug for the conference room.” She reached into the weapons locker under the seat and pulled out two rifles. “Jeeez. Trust Archie to have Westley Richards  hunting rifles instead of a decent armor-piercing semi-automatic. Rhys?”

             “I’d probably shoot off my own foot, cariad. You got something I can use to break heads?”

             Gwen rooted around in the locker and pulled out a golf club. “What the hell?”

             Jack laughed. “Archie had that especially made from the trunk of an Illigian oak that washed through the Rift. Four times stronger than steel but half the weight. They had to use diamond tools. It should do the trick for Rhys.”

             Gwen passed it over to Rhys. “Good?”

             He hefted it. “Yeah.”

             Jack aimed the SUV directly at the cairns. There was no chance in hell to sneak up on the monks. At this end the glen was a flat, brown expanse punctuated by stands of gorse. The only significant features were the cairns themselves. Besides, there was no way the bastards would miss the sound of the engine.

             _*Jack. Pryce is in really bad shape.*_ Ianto sounded near tears. _*TARDIS says he might not make it.*_

_*Tell it we have an ace in the hole. Me. I’ll keep him alive until we reach Torchwood House.*_

_*Hurry, then. Hurry.*_

             Well, Jack reflected, there was much to be said for direct action.

             “Gwen. Flares.”

             His second showed him a box of small silver buttons. “I take back whatever I said about Archie.”

             “And so you should.” He grabbed a handful. “I’m going to bring the SUV as close to the entrance of the cairn as possible. Rhys, you run in and help Ianto with the boys. Gwen, a haemavore’s eyes are very sensitive to light. Scatter flares in every direction. If it’s out of commission we can deal with the others easily enough.”

             He threw the SUV into a turn and they all hung on for dear life as it struggled to keep upright against the centrifugal pull. Dirt and small rocks flew upwards in every direction. They could see the monks scrambling into the shadows cast by the cairn. Rhys opened his door and, as the SUV slowed, he threw himself out and ran into the cairn.

             The werewolf stood its ground, howling its displeasure at the intruders. Gwen tossed flares directly into its face.  Jack did the same thing from his side. The silver buttons burst into brilliant white light as they spun upwards, raining down on the creature, burning wherever they touched. It howled  and dropped to a crouch, scuttling away into the darkness. Gwen got out of the SUV, rifle under one arm, and started out after it.

             “Gwen, no!” The urgency in Jack’s voice stopped her cold.”We don’t have time. Come around here… look out!”

             One of the monks was charging at her, knife held high overhead. Gwen whirled aside, turning in mid-move and bringing the gun stock down on the man’s arm. He stumbled; Gwen swung the gun like a baseball bat and connected a solid blow to the back of his head. He collapsed at her feet and lay still.

             They heard running footsteps from inside the cairn and then Ianto burst through the doorway, carrying Pryce in his arms. In the light of the  head lamps they could see the horrific tears on the boy’s shoulder and chest. Pryce’s face was ashen, and his lips had started to turn blue.

             Before Gwen could even move, Jack jumped into the back seat. “Ianto. Give him here.”

             He took Pryce in his arms. Ignoring everything else, he concentrated on finding even the smallest spark of life in Pryce’s body. He felt a few stirrings, a flickering that seemed to reach out to him. He sighed in relief. It was more than he had gotten when the Cyberwoman had thrown Ianto into the fountain, and he had managed to bring Ianto back. He was not going to fail Gwen and Rhys; he was not going to lose someone he loved this time.

             Holding him carefully cradled, hand to cheek, he leaned down and breathed his essence into Pryce’s lungs. After a few anxious moments, he felt Pryce’s body start to respond, but the injuries were so severe that the energy could not keep up with the cellular disintegration. He opened himself completely, holding back nothing, until his head spun and his lungs seized.

             As he started to pass out Jack felt Ianto’s hand close over his. Fresh energy poured through him and into Pryce. Artron energy! Ianto and the TARDIS were keeping them both alive by feeding artron energy into their bodies. Pryce’s cell were too fragile to handle that sort of input. He tried to push Ianto away but could only wriggle like a fretful child.

             _*Don’t worry, Jack. Pryce was born on the Rift and he comes from a long line of Rift talents. His body recognizes it. Look deeper.*_

             Jack stopped struggling and watched as Pryce’s body began to slowly knit back the wounds caused by the werewolf. They were not out of the woods; there was a good chance the alien had infected Pryce. His mind shied away from the thought. They would deal with that later, somehow. Gwen was not going to lose her son; he would not lose his nephew.


	8. Chapter 8

             Ianto combed his fingers through his partner’s hair. Jack had kept up the energy transfer until Pryce’s system had stabilized, and then he had collapsed into a fitful sleep, his head on Ianto’s shoulder. One of his hands still rested on Pryce’s chest, and Ianto knew Jack would be instantly on the alert if Pryce showed any kind of discomfort. Fortunately Pryce seemed to be resting easily, his breathing shallow but even, and his heartbeat much stronger.

             On Ianto's other side, his namesake kept watch, one of Archie’s prized rifles across his lap.  When Ianto had materialized in the burial chamber he had found Yan standing watch over his brother and their friends armed only with a walking stick. His only reaction to the sudden apparition was an upraised eyebrow, a speculative look, and a hug. He helped Ianto calm down the other boys and gotten Pryce ready to move. The only time Yan had openly shown emotion had been when his father had entered the chamber. Yan had thrown himself into Rhys’s arms, tears running down his face.

             “Uncle Ianto?” Yan whispered. “Why are we going to Torchwood House? Why not head for Cardiff?”

             “I wouldn’t mind an answer to that one myself, pal,” Rhys said. “The copter is still where we left it. I can have us there in forty minutes and we can be home by midmorning.”

             Ianto shook his head. “The only surefire way we know of to kill a haemavore is to use the telescope at Torchwood House.  If it managed to infect Pryce we can use it to burn the infected cells out of his wounds.”

             Yan twisted slightly to look at the space behind them, where Don and Merry slept fitfully in a nest of blankets. “I think Merry’s in bad shape, too. They kept giving him stuff.”

             “Do you have any idea what was in it?”

             “No, but” Yan reached into his backpack and brought out a small vial, “I stole some from the infirmary.”

              “Your Uncle Jack will be very proud of you.” Ianto unstoppered the vial and sniffed. “Ugh.”

             “I thought maybe your TARDIS could help us figure out what’s in it.”

             “Is there anything you guys don’t know?”

             Yan shrugged. “We don’t know what we don’t know. We expect to be told what we need to know when we start our training.”

             “Training? What training?” hissed Gwen, who had been listening in from the front passenger seat.

             “Face it, mum, you and aunt Martha have been raising the next generation of Torchwood agents.” When she glared at him, he scowled. “Come on, mum! What else could we be?”

             “Oh, I don’t know. Doctors. Physicists. Computer geniuses. Writers. Small business owners like your Tad…”

             “Mum, Tad’s only a part-time business owner! His real job is to make sure you don't go spare, and to jump in when he’s needed. Like Uncle Tom or Uncle Ianto. They’re Torchwood’s support network.” He tapped his own wrist meaningfully. “Although Uncle Ianto’s role might be changing.”

             Ianto grinned at him. “I can do more than one thing at a time.”

             “But…”

             Rhys’s beat a rapid tat-tat-tat on the steering wheel. “Let’s table that discussion for a while, Gwen love. We got more pressing things. That bunch back there isn’t going to give up.”

             “Not likely,” Ianto said. “They’ve been planning this for too long. Yan, why do you think they kept giving Merry stuff?”

             “Merry thinks his Tad gave him to the Brethren as a host for the haemavore.”

            “Yan.” Jack’s voice was weak but his eyes were alert. “We need the details. Everything.”

             They listened as Yan told his story. Ianto could not help noticing that he presented the information almost like a case report; he knew Jack wouldn’t miss it either. Yan answered Jack’s questions concisely but in full detail, and his extrapolations were logical and properly reasoned. Ianto foresaw some explosive shouting matches between Jack and Gwen, because Jack wasn’t about to let all that natural talent slip through his fingers.

             “Thank you, Yan. Well done.” Jack sat up, stretching as much as he could while balancing Pryce on his knees. “Priority one is to get Pryce and Merry under lock and key until tonight.  The best place for it is the library. Every wood surface is soaked in oil of mistletoe. Then as soon as the sun sets we will need to get them to the observatory.  Priority two is to make sure that the Brethren never, ever get the chance to try another stunt again. We need more information about them. Gwen…”

             “On it, Jack.” She pulled out her cell phone and pressed a button. “Andy? Sorry to get you up. You were? Good. We need to know everything we can about Jonathan Conway and…”

             Francis Hadley, I think,” Yan said.

             “Francis Hadley. We also need to know what they know about the Brethren. And Andy? They’re probably up to their hairlines in this, and we don’t have time for subtle… Yeah. Bye.” She turned to Jack. “What about getting into Torchwood House?  Jane has to have warned the others by now.”

             “I lived there for a while between the wars, “Jack said. “Best way to avoid the earlier me. Archie and I explored the place top to bottom. The house is built around the shell of an old square tower. One of the old MacLeish lairds was  either a paranoid sonofabitch or an excellent defensive planner. He built a passageway connecting the old kitchens to one of the storage rooms near the library. It must have been collapsed for centuries. Archie and I cleaned it up enough so it could be used again.”

             “Whoa,” Rhys said. “Isn’t Archie the guy in charge now? How old is he?”

             “No, no.” Jack laughed. “I’m talking about Archie’s father, also Archie. We met in India and I recruited him a few years later.”

             “Why did you fix the tunnel, Uncle Jack? Were you expecting the werewolf to return?”

             “Not really, Yan. Archie wasn’t too sanguine about the prospects of a lasting peace in Europe, so he decided to turn the passageway into a storage place for Torchwood files and records in case something happened to Torchwood One. I just helped him out.”

             “You knew about the Blitz,” Ianto said softly.

             “Yeah. We duplicated all the files and took them to Torchwood House. Good thing, too, because the old Headquarters took a direct hit.”

             “So we have a way into the house.”

             “If we can get into the old kitchens without being noticed, we can get into the house,” Jack corrected her. “We still have to get past the gates and the courtyard. That might be a bit more difficult.”

             “I have an idea,” Ianto said. “From things Jane said, I gather that Archie has not been particularly forthcoming with her. So, Gwen, if you didn’t know Jack and went only by his reputation, what would you think he’d do?”

             “Charge in with all guns blazing.”

             “That’s what I thought too. Let me check on something.” He ran his fingers over the center band of his bracelet. _*I can move myself. Can I move others?*_

_*You are not yet strong enough to do it alone.*_

_*But it can be done?*_

_*Yes, with some limitations. Translocation of objects that are not part of you can be rather… noticeable to those with the ability to detect its energy signature. Haemavores are rather good at it. We must take care not to attract its attention.*_

_*We?*_

            Ianto took the rather chilly silence for assent. “TARDIS approves. I’ll crash the SUV through the gates, make lots of noise. Distract them. Once we are near enough to the gates,TARDIS will translocate you as close to the kitchen gate as it can. It can't get any closer to the house. Moving all of you will take a lot of energy, and it could attract the haemavore’s attention.”

             “Translocate?” Rhys’s said faintly. “Like _beam me up Scotty_ or something?”

             Ianto bit back a chuckle. “Or something. Don’t worry, pal. We won’t scramble your molecules.”


	9. Chapter 9

             Jack watched Gwen and Yan as they sat on the floor near Pryce. Their heads were close together and there was a great deal of fierce whispering going on. Jack felt a little sorry for Gwen; even as a young boy Yan had possessed the ability of driving his mother into raving fits with his mulishness. From her expression, the only thing keeping his second from turning some of the valuable antiques in the Torchwood library into missiles was the urgent need to keep their hiding place a secret.

             “We’ll have some uncomfortable dinner hours around the house,” Rhys murmured, “and it’ll get worse after Pryce is well.”

             “You don’t have to worry,” Jack said, “they’re not going to suffer any more because of Torchwood.”

             Rhys took Jack’s arm and forced him to turn around until they were face to face. “Did you get into the good single malt and didn’t share? My children are going to suffer because of Torchwood no matter what. How often have you and I sat in a waiting room praying Gwen or Ianto or Andy or John or Martha make it, hoping we don’t have to explain to the children that their mother or uncle or aunt will not be coming back? How many stories have we told them about Uncle Owen and Aunt Toshiko? Do you think there are going to be no more Daleks or Cybermen or haemavores in the future? There is nothing you can do to protect them, Jack, no matter how hard you try.” He took a deep breath. “And I wouldn’t want you to.”

             “Rhys…”

             “No. Listen. They are adult. Still young, but not children anymore. They have a right to their own lives, their own dangers, and their own grief. Even if it breaks our hearts. I’d rather they be here with you rather than join Torchwood One or UNIT and don’t tell me that wouldn’t happen. I know my kids.”

             “Gwen won’t be happy.”

             “That’s the most wildly optimistic thing I’ve ever heard you say.  The nice thing is that I get to sit it out, and, if you play your cards right, so do you.”

             “You don’t think she’ll scream at us?”

             Rhys gave him an incredulous look. “She’ll scream like a Cardiff City fan at the FA Cup final, but the fight is between her and the boys. For once, you and I have cover.”

             “Well, thank God for that.” Jack strolled over to an exquisitely crafted floor globe standing in an alcove behind the desk. “And I definitely know where the good stuff is.”

             He pressed his thumb against the Scotland part of the British Isles and the globe split in two along the equator. Inside were two cut glass decanters and a set of glasses.

             “Pour me one too while you’re at it.” Ianto strolled out from between some cabinets on the far corner of the room. “I think I need it.”

             Jack did not miss the subtle signs of exhaustion. “Overdoing it, cariad?”

             “Just a bit. TARDIS did most of the hard work, but I’m new at this. I still have to think about things before I do them. I’ll get better. The good news is most of the Brethren are out on the glen chasing a nonexistent Torchwood team.” He shrugged and tossed back the drink Jack handed him. “Whoa. I should have been more respectful to Charlie’s best.”

             Rhys sipped at his own drink. “Are they all gone?”

             “No. Jane and two of the monks stayed behind to keep an eye on the host. It’s practically helpless in daylight.”

             Rhys poured some more scotch in his glass. “I think I’ll take some of this to Gwen. It’ll take the edge off. Jack, how are we going to get to the observatory? We have to carry Pryce. Don is near catatonic, and Merry keeps on dropping in and out of consciousness…”

             “We might not need to move all of them.” Jack said. “Rhys, check on Don and see how much we can expect from him. Ianto, can TARDIS figure out what exactly is happening to Merry?”

             _*The boy’s body was being prepared to trap the haemavore.*_

             Jack’s grin told Ianto he also could hear TARDIS. Jack always seemed elated when the old Teacher communicated directly with him. _*I don’t understand.*_

_*In some cultures haemavores are viewed much in the same fashion as demons were on Earth at one time: powerful beings that could be bound to your will with certain ceremonies and potions. The trick is to trap it into an especially prepared host. Once helpless it could be coerced.*_

_*So the monks are not serving the haemavore as much as using it?*_

             _*Indeed.*_

 _*What about the boy?*_ Ianto asked.

             _*Let us examine him.*_ As usual, precise instructions followed. _*There is a chance that if the process has not yet reached the critical stage we can reverse it._ *

Merry was lying in one of the big club chairs grouped around the fireplace. He had curled up into as tight a ball as he could manage, and someone had thrown a heavy carriage rug over him, but he was still cold and clammy and his teeth chattered incessantly. A thin trickle of blood-tinged saliva ran from the corner of his mouth to stain the sleeve of his t-shirt. He looked absurdly young and fragile.

             Ianto knelt by the chair and ran his hands lightly over the boy’s head and chest.  Merry was burning up. His heart was beating so fast and hard that Ianto didn’t need heightened senses to detect it, and his sweat and saliva smelled oddly metallic. If Ianto didn’t know any better, he would think that Merry’s body was trying to fight off an infection.

             _*That is exactly what it is doing. The treatment was not completed, or the potion was of insufficient strength.*_

Ianto produced the little vial Yan had given him. _*Yan procured some from the infirmary.*_

_*Let’s see. Yes. The potion is not quite correct. They are using the oil of mistletoe as the closest earth homologue, but it could produce an allergic reaction on the host. For it to work properly the body should have been prepared from childhood. The boy is lucky._ _If he is not possessed within eight hours he will return to normal. We can slow down his heart and strengthen his immune response a little. It will give him a better chance to fight off the effects.*_

             They worked slowly – at least it felt like hours to Ianto – but when he stood up his time sense informed him only fifteen minutes had passed. He found Jack standing patiently behind him.

             “He seems better.”

             “I think he’ll be ok if everything works out. The only thing we need to worry about is Pryce’s wound. We can hide Merry and Don in the passageway.”

             “Yeah. Yan can stand guard.”

             “He won’t like that.”

             “Tough. He wants to be a Torchwood agent, he learns to follow hard orders.”

             Gwen walked up to them, holding her PDA. “Andy sent us some information. The police found Francis Hadley dead this morning. He had been strangled with a knotted rope.”

             “Like a monk’s belt?” Jack asked.

             She nodded. “Andy and John got to Conway ahead of the police. He’s still alive, but only because he hadn’t been in the house when the monk showed up. One of his security guards is dead and the other in hospital.”

             “Did he know why the Brethren were trying to kill him?” Jack asked.

             “Yeah. It seems that there are families in the Brethren whose job it is to raise possible hosts. If by the time they reach thirty there’s no haemavore in sight the hosts are expected to marry and produce the next generation. Conway told Andy it’s never happened, so most of the families don’t really take it seriously. Conway was supposed to be preparing Merry from the time he was five or six but he didn’t. When Booth realized what he had done… well, disobeying the Brethren means instant death.”

             “What about Hadley?”

             “He was obsessed with protecting his oldest son. He figured one male child was as good as another, so he sent Don instead. Bad mistake.”

             “What a fantastic bunch,” Jack growled. “All right, we have two or three hours before we can move. Let’s thrash out the details…”

             The knock made them all jump. Jack pointed at Gwen then at Yan and Pryce; then he repeated the gesture with Rhys and Ianto, pointing them towards Merry and Don. He unholstered the Webley as he moved noiselessly towards the door.

             “Captain Harkness?” Jack could hear the suppressed hysteria in Jane’s voice. “Jack, please. We need to talk.”

             “So talk.”

             “Please. The… whatever it is… I don’t think it’s a haemavore, I think Booth got it wrong. He wants it so much, he craves power, but I don’t think she’s what he thinks she is.”

             “She?”

             “Yes. It’s a female, and Jack, she’s not like anything I’ve read about in the records. I’m telling you there’s something really wrong here. Please let us in.”

             “Jane, take a guess at how old I am and then ask me again.”

             “Jack, please.”

             “You smell like him.” The new voice was gentle, and full of a longing that tore at Jack’s heart. “Different, but same.”

             “Like who?”

             “The Doctor. He was my friend for a little while.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mags the werewolf appears in the Classic Doctor Who story The Greatest Show in the Galaxy (7th doctor and Ace). Nothing is known about Mags other than she originates in the planet Vulpana, so I took it upon myself to create some background.

             Ianto poured some of Archie’s best and handed to glass to Jane. “Here. You look like you need it.”

             “I need… I don’t know what I need.  All my life I’ve worked for the coming of the Wolf. I had this vision of an intergalactic power leading his followers to greatness. Instead I got a shy young woman that wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She tossed back the scotch and held out the glass for more. “If she’s a haemavore I’m the faerie queen.”

             “You’re not anywhere ugly enough,” Jack said, “and she isn’t. She’s a Vulpani.”

             After a brief discussion they had agreed to let Jane and the werewolf into the library under heavy guard. Pryce’s attacker turned out to be a slender, dark-haired woman named Mags, with a soft voice and a calm disposition. It turned out that Mags had met the Doctor while performing in a circus; by her description her Doctor was an early incarnation of the ones Jack had known. Ianto and TARDIS had examined her and discovered that she had been dosed with a potion similar to the one used on Merry, but in her case it was meant to trigger all her feral instincts.

             “I’ve never heard of the Vulpani,” Jane said.

             “I’m not surprised. They seldom leave their planet. Most of their contact with the space-going civilizations is through an annual fair held during the month of the year when the light of all three of their moons is occluded by their twin planet. The Vulpani are brilliant pharmacists and perfumers and their products are much in demand. Wars have been fought over Vulpani perfume.”

             “But she turns into a werewolf, just like a haemavore,” Jane said. “Are you telling me they aren’t related?”

             “No, they are probably related. Literally. One of the oldest Vulpani creation stories describes a battle between their Gods and off world demons that could inhabit Vulpani bodies. The demons were cast out but cursed the Vulpani to change form at the full of the moons.”

             “So the Vulpani are the survivors of a war between their ancestors and haemavores,” Ianto said. “But that means Mags is useless to the Brethren. She’s not a host, so she can’t pass on the infection.”

             “So Pryce will be ok, then,” Gwen said happily. “All we have to do is get him to hospital.”

             “No.” Mags sweet voice was full of sadness. “The reason we stay away from others is that we can pass on the madness.”

             “What do you mean?” Gwen grabbed the girl’s shoulders and shook her. “What madness?”

             “Gwen, let go!”  Jack pushed his way between the women. “Mag’s as much a victim as Pryce.”

             “It’s fine, Captain, “the werewolf said. “You will need to know so you can take measures to protect the boy and yourselves.”

             She sank to the floor next to Pryce and stroked his hair gently, tears running down her face. “My people evolved in an ecosystem full of large predators. Our primary defense mechanism was a chemical compound that produced temporary disruptions in our attacker’s nervous system. After the War of Gods and Demons we found that the compound had mutated into an irreversible poison. If you are lucky, it paralyzes your brain and your body shuts down instantly.  If you are not, it drives you slowly insane.”

             The finality of the softly-spoken words chilled everyone to the core. Ianto instinctively reached into his TARDIS link, hoping to find something that would help. Unaccountably, for the first time since their association, the ancient Teacher seemed reluctant to answer. Flashes of memory were instantly suppressed; his pleas were met with the mental equivalent of a slammed door.

             _*Why are you doing this?*_ Once more he received no answer. _*Fine. I will ask the Doctor to help me remove you from my wrist. He is not too certain that our existence is a good thing. I’ll bet he sighs with relief when I ask.*_

 _*They all died.*_ TARDIS’s grief was almost unbearable. * _They could not assimilate us, and they died.*_

 _*Show me.*_ The terrible images almost made Ianto retch. * _How could they?*_

_*They were looking for a way to make TARDIS completely subservient. In any case, there are no Potentialities available for the boy.*_

_*But he doesn’t need one! What he needs is something that will eliminate the poison and correct the structural damage.*_ Ianto projected a series of images back to the TARDIS. * _Would this work?*_

The old Teacher seemed actually startled _. * It might work if we do it very quickly.*_

             That was all Ianto needed to hear. He grabbed Jack’s arm and towed him to where Gwen and Rhys were standing, holding each other.

             “Gwen. Gwenie! Listen. We might be able to do something for Pryce.” The wild hope in her eyes made him feel panicky. “It’s not much of a chance. But…”

             “What?” Jack cut through his babbling.

             “Remember that book you told me about?  One of those abandoned lines of research involved implanting immature TARDIS structures into Time Lords’ brains and linking them both to the TARDIS coral. The Time Lord brains couldn’t handle the overload, and they died. But Jack… during the experiment they noticed that the coral optimized the Time Lords’ bodies automatically…”

             Jack hugged him. "And TARDIS thinks there's a chance?"

            “The coral? That thing on Jack’s desk?” Gwen asked unbelievingly. “How can it help?”

             “We implant a small piece of it into Pryce’s body. If the coral is assimilated, it will assume Pryce’s body is part of itself and start trying to correct its structural flaws. Right now, Pryce’s biggest flaws are his wound and the poison.” Ianto took her hand. “Gwen, Rhys, I won’t lie to you. We’re going into this blind. Even if the implant saves him, nobody has ever carried a piece of TARDIS coral inside them before. Even TARDIS cannot predict what will happen.”

             “Do it.” Rhys said. “He will die either way, right? Better this way than going slowly insane.”

             “They’re coming.” Mags jumped up, sniffing the air. “The mad ones are coming.”

             “Good.” Jack’s smile held a great deal of mirthless anticipation. “I’ve been looking forward to this. Gwen? Rhys? I’m sorry to have to ask, but we are out of time…”

             “Mom? Dad? Do it. Pryce would think it’s fun.”Yan hefted the rifle.”Uncle Jack, where do you want me?”

             Jack raised an eyebrow at Gwen, who nodded. “You’re in charge of Merry and Don, kiddo. Gwen…”

             “I’m over here with Ianto. He can’t do surgery and fight at the same time, can he?”

             Jack kissed her forehead lightly. “Rhys, with me. You still have that nine-iron?”

             “Oh, yeah.”

             “Mags,” Jack said something none of the others understood, but that had the werewolf giggling and Ianto rolling his eyes. “Jane, you’re with Mags. Make sure she’s safe.”

             He waited until everyone was in position and then ambled to the door. As he passed Ianto, now crouched at Pryce’s side, their fingers touched briefly.

             _*Ready, cariad?*_

_*Always, my captain.*_

            Somewhere in the house, a bell started tolling. Jack waited a few minutes then rapped sharply on the door. “Will you stop that racket? Do you think we are stupid enough not to know you’re out there?”

             The bell fell silent. Now they could hear urgent whispering and shuffling in the corridor beyond; obviously there was an argument going on, and it seemed to be escalating rapidly. The whispers became shouts of _no!_ and _look out!_ as a gun fired three times in quick succession.

             “Ah, the joys of participatory democracy,” Jack drawled. “So, Mr. Booth, shall we talk?”

             “We have nowt to talk about. Open the door.”

             “Do it, Jack,” Jane said from behind him, “or I will kill the werewolf.”

             Jack turned slowly. Jane was holding Mags with one arm around the throat. The Torchwood agent held a small but lethal looking gun pressed against the girl’s temple. Wordlessly, Jack reached behind his back and drew the bolt.

             “Now, step away from the door.” She waited until Jack had moved, then shouted. “Booth, come in!”

             The door slammed back against the wall. A tall, ginger man marched in, followed by two monks. He looked Jack up and down contemptuously. “So this is the fabled Captain Harkness. Not such a bright man, I ken, letting himself be trapped by a mere girl,”

             “Doesn’t think much of you, does he, Jane?” Jack grinned cheekily at her. “Care to rethink your position, ‘girl’? We make much better allies.”

             The blow sent him sprawling against the desk. Booth threw himself after him, punching and kicking wildly. Jack twisted away, his leg swinging up to connect with Booth’s kidneys.

             “Now!”

             The gun in Jane’s hand was jerked away by an invisible force as Mags threw herself backwards, smashing them both against the wall. The two monks, caught by surprise, tried to jump in only to be dropped unconscious by two hard blows from a golf club swung efficiently by Rhys. Gwen handcuffed the two together and left them where they lay, then handcuffed Booth to the leg of the heavy desk.

             Jack stood over a dazed Jane. “Game over.”

             She stumbled to her feet. “You knew. How did you know? How did you do it? I didn’t see you give them any instructions!”

             “I didn’t need to. This is my team. We have been together for twenty-five years. They know exactly what I would do and how I would do it. All I had to do was tell Mags to wait for my signal. How about you and Booth, Jane? I don’t think you have much interest in the Kingdom of the Wolf.”

             She shrugged. “I was reading some of the Monastery Archives and I found out how to control a haemavore. Can you imagine it, Jack? All that power at my disposal. Why the hell should I serve an alien when I could make him give me everything I wanted?”

             “So that’s why your little boy-toy eliminated the competition out there. You weren’t about to become a foot soldier in a werewolf army. Too bad you didn’t have a better partner. He moved too soon, Jane. Killing your allies is done only after you’re sure you won’t need them again. ”

             “What about your nephew? You wasted time with this little battle, Captain,” she said viciously. “Your boy’s going to die.”

             “Actually, implanting a TARDIS coral is a rather easy procedure.” Ianto stood up, stretching luxuriously. “No tools needed. The coral takes care of it itself.” He smiled at Gwen and Rhys. “His body seems to be accepting the implant. We'll have to watch him for a few days, but I think he will be ok.”

             “But she said,” Jane pointed at Gwen, who had rushed to her son’s side, “that it was on Jack’s desk!”

             Ianto raised his hand and pointed at a lovely Dresden shepherdess on one of the side tables. It vanished, only to reappear on his palm a couple of seconds later.

             “What the hell are you?”

             “Look carefully, Jane. You are looking at a new species of human. Or of Time Lord. We’re not quite sure yet.” He smiled grimly. “Not that you’re going to remember him. Or any of this.”

             ‘”Retcon, Captain?”

             “Probably back to the cradle. You played for power and you lost. Time to pay the piper.” The sound of a helicopter’s rotor filled the room. “That’s the rest of the team. I didn’t have to give them any instructions, either. Right about now UNIT is rounding up the host families and all the monks left in the monastery or the glen. It’s what I would do.”

             He held his hand out to Mags. “Come on. We’ll call the Doc and have him come pick you up. It’ll be old home week at the Hub. Ianto, will Pryce be able to travel?”

             “Sure.”

             “All right, then. “ Jack looked around. “I’ve never been very fond of Torchwood House. Let’s get our present and future team out of here.”

             “Three of them.” Rhys said mournfully. “I’m going to have to deal with three of them.”

             “You think you have problems now, Dad?” Yan said cheekily. “Pryce and I just want to work for Torchwood. Toshi wants to be a Companion!"


End file.
